


algometry II

by arsenouselation



Series: the fathomless stars [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Love but not-love, Marriage of Convenience, Past Relationship(s), Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenouselation/pseuds/arsenouselation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here we are once more, in a tableau vivant of Shadow and Light, led by Loki and Sigyn, two beings who have charted the stars—and each other—six lifetimes ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	algometry II

**Author's Note:**

> A proof of my senseless and selfish urge to write dramas that are calibrated below zero.
> 
> I have mixed feelings about publishing algometry II but nonetheless, here it is. A sort-of sequel to AMARANTHINE. You don't really need to read that one to understand this, despite the persistent references. This scene occurs just before the Stuttgart scene in The Avengers, or as it states below, six lifetimes after the events in Thor (Time is a messed up concept between the realms).
> 
> You will notice that it says 'version II' below and indeed there is a version I, a drabble which may or may not be published here. This provides more continuity to its prequel.
> 
> The songs, "You" by Switchfoot, "Prayer" by Joe Hisaishi and "Would You Go" by Urbandub (FTW.) served as my inspiration for this fic. I recommend listening to them whilst reading this.

algometry  
ver. II

the best part of be _lie_ ve / an interim

Loki, Sigyn

=

UNA. _But the memory of past sorrow—is it not present joy?_  
I have much to say yet of the things which have been.  
—Edgar Allan Poe; _The Colloquy of Monos and Una_

  


_Here we are once more, in a tableau vivant of Shadow and Light, led by Loki and Sigyn, two beings who have charted the stars—and each other—six lifetimes ago._

_This brief interlude occurs in the present, right before Loki appears in Stuttgart. Here, the Norns have decreed change. For Sigyn, the long sonata of grief has ended, and no matter how slow or bitter, there has been recovery. For Loki, a new purpose has been found, one that will either give him what he has always wanted—for the price of mankind's precious freedom—or ultimately tear him apart. They look, speak and move differently, as if they are both older and wiser._

_Again, no drop curtains are used. The beginning and end of this scene is hailed by the opening and closing of doors. We are faceless specters, strangers walking, standing outside the almost deserted setting (on the nocturnal streets, under the incandescent street lamps). Through the wide window, we witness whatever is left between two estranged companions._

_Time has neither been kind nor cruel; it waits for no one but it allows a moment for two lives to cross again. And for two immortals,_ a moment is enough.

^

 _Instead of Asgard's opulent purview, we find ourselves in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Midgard. In a launderette (a_ Laundromat _, in modern Midgardian lexicon) that is outmoded, like from another time, but is almost clean, well-lighted. The light that enfolds this place is a perpetual, bright artificial light even when empty._

_Everything has a strangely nostalgic but clinical look with its white marble floor, white and pale yellow machines._

_A row of clothes dryers line one of the longer walls, mechanical eyes that churn almost restlessly; in the opposite wall, by a wide glass window, automatic washers sit neatly side by side. In the middle, long tables and chairs divide the spacious floor into two. By the door, a counter squats brimming with packed food and other Midgardian amenities that make the arduous task of washing bearable. Baskets, rickety rolling carts stand in a corner; on the wall of this corner, an analog clock that doesn't really tell the right time._

∞

_[Summertime. Before the scene opens, there is the low buzz of an automatic washer, the rumbling hum of dryers. There are no other sounds, no voices. All of the lights are turned on. On the clock it says 11 PM._

_There are three people in the launderette: the keeper's daughter, a young woman dressed in a pleasant summer dress, dozing on her throne behind the counter; a stout man in a rumpled suit, an equally rumpled sheet of paper in his hand, sitting on a chair, dazed. He has been there since this afternoon. And there is Sigyn, standing by the groaning washer—Sigyn, who is supposed to be dead._

_A scarf is wrapped around her neck, wears a knitted sweater as if it is cold. It is evident that she has taken a liking for a popular trend in this realm's fashion, an appearance of stylish shabbiness: ill-fitting clothes, hair—now cut short—in a messy chignon, horn-rimmed glasses._

_11:01. The washer stops._

_Sigyn steps forward, lifts the lid, takes out the items of clothing. Her movements are different now, easy and with comfortable grace. Unstrained, free. There are no world responsibilities for her here, no pedestals, no Loki, nothing but her laundry and electric bills and the occasional fever. No one is watching, dissecting her every action. There is no need to pretend. In spite of a few outlandish things (people stare at her sometimes, but she supposes it's a normal thing), she is her own self here. A niche has been found for a half-breed who belong(ed) nowhere._

_Wet clothes piled on a rolling cart, the wheels grumbling in motion. Sigyn proceeds across to the dryers. The door to the launderette opens, closes._

_Then footsteps. Steady and purposeful. There is a sudden stillness in the air but Sigyn appears to ignore it. She hears the heartbeats of the woman and the man in the background, but with heaviness. Seiðr is at work. She loads the dryer as the newcomer stops several paces away. It is Loki, fallen prince of Asgard._

_Again the contrast between them is strong: he is dressed meticulously, a perfectly-tailored black and white suit. Even when pretending, he looks as if he is born into this realm's luxuries. His hair is longer, his eyes older. Sigyn does not see this but she knows._

_She knows that one day Loki will come, now he has. The scene has opened, and it is a sort of mundanely twisted scene from a story book—the prince has come to visit his plebeian bride. Once upon a time, this would have rung true. But only as a lie. Now it is strangely, befittingly anticlimactic.]_

**SIGYN:** _(straightens herself, slams the dryer closed)._ Of all the places you choose to come, you pick the laundry.  
**LOKI:** But you knew I will come.  
**SIGYN:** Not for me.

 **LOKI:** Why not?  
_(Loki laughs softly, his unblinking gaze never leaving her. His heartbeat, calm, echoes above thrumming magic. To Sigyn, its familiarity is deafening. She keeps her face blank, watches the dryer start its rotation, arms crossed.)_

 **SIGYN:** Why are you here, Loki?

 **LOKI:** Earth's clime has done you some good. _(studies her clothes with a raised brow)._ Your taste in garments, not so much.  
**SIGYN:** And falling through the chasm has done you none; your hair is unruly. Do you even wash it?  
**LOKI:** You wear their feeble eye contraptions as well.  
**SIGYN:** Keeps my eyes from seeing too much. Why are you here?

 **LOKI:** _(feigns indignant affection)_. Come now, am I not allowed to see you?  
**SIGYN:** For what purpose?  
**LOKI:** Must I have a reason for doing inconsequential things?  
**SIGYN** : There is always a purpose; I did not become your wife for no reason.

 _(After an eternity they don't pretend to be apologetic. Their union has been forged out of trickery and convenience. They have learned to sieve the truth out of each other's lies.)_  
**LOKI:** One can say I miss my dear wife.  
**SIGYN:** _(impassively)._ Drop the act. No one knows that I'm here. The gatekeeper does not keep an eye on me.

 **LOKI:** It's a wonder how you can read my mind even after all this time… The Ljósálfr-Æsir alliance depends on our matrimony; with me gone, they cannot let you out of their sight…  
_(sees the flash in Sigyn's eyes, realizes, laughs in amazement)._ Ah, they think you dead.  
**SIGYN:** _(caustically)._ Yes, I am dead to the universe. Even to you. Out of grief from your passing, as they like to believe. We are both dead, what a _tragedy_ for Asgard.  
**LOKI:** Just as expected from you. Playing a cruel joke on sentiment.  
_(pauses)._ You've always held a morbid allure for it.

 **SIGYN** : Answer my question.  
**LOKI:** Which one?  
**SIGYN:** Why are you here, before me?

_(Sigyn turns to look at Loki, at the one she is bound to for all eternity. Once, they have belonged nowhere but they found a sanctuary in each other's solitude. Now they are reduced to mismatched strangers.  
In his eyes, she sees something that roils in with his innate mischief. Madness.)_

**LOKI:** I am looking for something, the Tesseract. Do you happen to know where it is?  
**SIGYN:** You already have it.  
**LOKI:** You are up to date with world events, I see.  
**SIGYN** : That is all. I do not know your purpose for having it. Do you seek it for yourself or for the Mad Titan?  
**LOKI:** _(mildly surprised)._ You know of him.  
**SIGYN:** _(wryly.)_ You're not the only one who has seen places.

_(Silence. A memory flits in between them, like a dervish of dust, is gone in the same breath. )_

**LOKI:** _(tears his gaze from her to survey the launderette, derisively)._ Of all the places you have seen, you choose to settle in Midgard. Why not beloved your home-realm Álfheim?  
**SIGYN:** If I go to there, the Dark Elves will know and both it and Asgard will be in danger… and you know I couldn't stay in Asgard.  
_(she does not say—_ you were the only reason I didn't break in my rage for the Æsir. You were the only reason I stayed _.)_

 **LOKI:** Your hate for the Æsir is interminable. Is that why you faked your death? To escape but still _save_ the races that scorned you? Sentiment does not befit you, Sigyn.  
**SIGYN:** One more and I will throw that sentimental trumpery on your face.  
_(venomously, the light glinting off her glasses)._ You made a mess of our union. Ensured that I can never walk away from your schemes without losing my head.

 **LOKI:** _(smiles widely, proud of his work)._ If I hadn't married you the Dókkálfr would have swallowed Asgard whole. That makes me worthy enough to rule it. It gave you your freedom. It worked for both of us did it not?  
**SIGYN:** _(gestures at the launderette, as if it is a representation of the consequences, of their mistakes)._ Look how it worked out. You are a king with no kingdom, lost now more than ever.  
**LOKI:** We'll see about that. But you speak as if I'm the only one who has lost. Why, don't you feel like an outsider among mortals? _  
(mocking)._ Have you found this place a home?

 _(There is silence. Sigyn has known Loki for far too long to disregard his words. She did not become his wife for no reason. He did not come here for no reason. Everything Loki does is centered on purpose; and the lack of it in his existence has pushed him to the brink._  
Sigyn has come to know. Despite the halt-truth in his words, there is something else. Loki always had something intricate up his sleeve.)  
**SIGYN:** Your purpose… is it… _(then says it like a long-known truth)._ —you intend to assault Midgard. Rule it, if you may.

 _(The god's mouth curls into a wide smile, his handsome face grotesque under the artificial light. Sigyn's hands are numb.)_  
**SIGYN:** With the help of the Chitauri. In exchange for the Tesseract.  
**LOKI:** You know me well. I hope you don't mind if I rule the scrambling mortals and teach them a thing or two about peace?  
**SIGYN:** I don't really mind it.  
**LOKI:** _(amused)._ You will leave me to ravage your newfound home?  
**SIGYN:** There will be those who will protect Midgard from the likes of you. One endearing thing about humans is them having stout hearts. Very notable, their heroic deeds.  
**LOKI:** So I've heard. I'd tear them all out to see, you can come and watch.

  
SIGYN: I change my mind. _(gathers seiðr from the air, summons her bow and arrow)._ As a precaution I ought to try—  
_Before the weapon materializes, Loki steps forward, grabs her bow arm and nullifies Sigyn's magic. The effect is immediate. Sigyn feels familiar infernal heat course through her veins, the fever threatening to combust her flesh. It had been a result of an equivalent exchange in the past: Loki's life for poison. Poison clawing inside of her at the proximity of its real recipient, trying, reaching for Loki's heart._

_There is some truth in the old myth. Sigyn is the wife who catches the poison with a cup. But she does not throw it away. She drinks it. The memory swirls in her mind like a half-dream._

_Through the pain, it is Sigyn's turn to smile. She did not become his wife without learning anything.)_

**SIGYN:** _(steps closer, vision expanding)._ But that's not all, is it?  
**LOKI:** _(smiles as his eyes follow her; gestures with his free hand, half-inviting)._ Oh? Pray tell, Sigyn.

 **SIGYN:** _(self-satisfied, masking the nausea, the burn)._ Dear, darling Loki—you hate Midgard.

(And that is crux. They both know the implication: _You cannot rule, cannot teach peace, to something you despise. Something that does not want to be subjugated. You will ultimately end up destroying it. Or yourself._ It is a lesson they have learned well.)

 **SIGYN:** See? There has to be something more, ruling Midgard is a subterfuge. You intend …to return to Asgard without any army barring its gates from you…  
_(Fire, ether, singing in her ears. She blinks, sews a hundred thousand suns behind her lids.)_  
**LOKI:** You know me far too well. You see, Sigyn, this time I will win. Even without a queen.  
_(QUEEN? I will die. His heartbeat is deafening. Stop it, just die.)_  
**SIGYN:** …You will… not come… out of this … a winner… Mankind will… not allow it. _(steadier, with verve)._ They are the ones who will make you kneel—scrape—beg—  
_(Sigyn gasps in tremendous pain, trembling. The smile fades away from Loki's mouth. There is cold anger, murderous, his seiðr flaring outwards. Sigyn is grateful for the cold hand around her arm, the coldness imbibed within a Jötunn. Loki sees her pain, heart beating furiously.)_

 **LOKI:** _(softly, cruelly)._ The fever never really went away, did it? _  
_**SIGYN:** …Do I hear sentiment… prince? _(my heart will burst, my heart will tearmyheartwillburn)_

 _(Loki lets her go roughly. Turns and walks away. In the background, the man in the creased suit glances at him.)_  
**LOKI:** _(inaudibly, almost repentant)._ My proximity is what ails you. It seems that we are more star-crossed than we believe.

 **SIGYN** _:_ Loki.  
_(swallows bile, blood. she slides to the floor as the god stops in his stride, listens.)_ The next time we meet, I will not hesitate to kill you.

 **LOKI:** _(quietly)._ I don't expect you to.

_(The door opens, closes. She closes her eyes, feels the scalding fever ravage her insides. For a long while, she listens to the hum of the dryer, the heartbeats in the room._

^

_(The keeper's daughter in the pleasant summer dress wakes and stretches. She watches as the rumpled man stands and looks at Sigyn, his eyes ringed red.)_

**MAN:** I'm going to hell. Wanna come?  
**SIGYN:** _(weakly laughs)._ Already there, mister.

 _(Fire and brimstone licks the insides of her heart._ That's enough, _she thinks,_ to repay all of my sins. _The pain lasts for a moment too long, before it drowns as t_ _he clock ticks._ _)_

**Author's Note:**

> RATIONALE (Or, Too Much Information, I daresay):  
> In this narrative, Sigyn is half- Ljósálfar (Light Elf), half-Asgardian. That's why Loki called Álfheim her 'home-realm'. Their marriage was one of convenience, it was to pledge the alliance of the Ljósálfr to the Æsir in their war against the Dókkálfr (Dark Elves). Hence the selfish continuity of my fanfiction from pre-Thor to Thor: The Dark World.
> 
> Sigyn served as a squire for Asgard. During this time, she prevented Loki's murder by catching some Dark Elf's poison with a cup. But the poison was deigned to find the God of Mischief's heart no matter what so Sigyn consumed it instead.
> 
> Yes, I twisted the myth—I KNOW. IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE.  
> I am sorry for any discrepancies involving Laundromats and Philadelphia. Self-service laundry is still a burgeoning concept in the place where I come from.


End file.
